


Believing

by GraceNM



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Remix, Episode: s05e12 You're Welcome, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceNM/pseuds/GraceNM
Summary: A remix of "You're Welcome" with Buffy instead of Cordelia, written at the suggestion of Mrs Gordo (though don't blame her for this!).





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this episode remix, Cordelia died between Home and Conviction and got a lovely tribute then, with acknowledgment from the Scoobies (before Spike came back or the extent of the AI team's involvement with Wolfram & Hart became clear). I generally stuck pretty close to canon (at least, I hope!), so some elements here will be familiar (and I shamelessly borrowed the funny bits), but I messed with the way the protection runes work, so that doesn't line up 100%.
> 
> Thanks to Last Watcher for the beta!

He doesn't know he's prey. The man in the white apron stealing out the restaurant's back door for a smoke in the damp alley doesn't recognize the predator moving in. If he notices her at all, he just sees a somewhat oddly dressed twentysomething out for a night on the town. She's lost her way, maybe, or wants some fresh air.

Angel knows that she doesn't need the oxygen. He can't hear her heart beat.

But, as he trails her, he can hear a soft pair of footsteps echoing his own. He, too, is prey and hasn't noticed until now. He breathes in deeply and catches a pungent, vaguely familiar scent. Not human. Not his usual Wolfram & Hart security detail – he shook them off long ago. This is another demon.

The moment of distraction has cost him. He hears a creak and looks up to see the vampire he was tracking propelling herself off a nearby fire escape and rocketing toward his head. He ducks, but she clips his shoulder and sends him sprawling. He hits a row of metal garbage cans, the sound like crashing cymbals. Before he can get his bearings, she takes off running into the night. The restaurant worker has disappeared as well.

But someone else is still in the alley. The demon steps out into the dim light and stretches a hand toward where Angel lies covered in trash. He's wearing a black fedora and a smirk.

"I really thought you'd smell better this time," Whistler says.

Ignoring the barb and the proffered hand, Angel gets to his feet, brushing off his clothes. "Why were you following me?"

"I was waiting for the right time to say hi. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me. It didn't go so well the last time, what with the girl and the sword and the all-expenses-paid trip to hell."

"Then why are you here?"

"I've always wanted to come back to LA. I think I have a certain star quality. Can't you just see this face in the moving pictures?" He smiles like a sardonic game show host.

Without a word, Angel turns and begins to walk out of the alley.

"Jeez," Whistler says a few blocks later, slightly out of breath from struggling to keep up with Angel's long strides. "I think I liked you better when you were on the all-rat diet. OK. This is going to sound entirely cheesy, but…I want you to see something."

He nods toward the large, propped-open window ahead. Somehow, without Angel realizing it, Whistler has maneuvered them to an abandoned warehouse that appears hastily converted into a base of operations. There's a small collection of mystical reference books…and crossbows…and battle axes…and…

Angel watches as two people stride into the room, clearly having a disagreement, and every last one of his senses lights on fire.

"It's Buffy," he says.

"Shh," Whistler hisses, grabbing his coat and pulling him out of the line of sight. From his new vantage point, Angel can see Buffy, luminous as ever, clutching a steaming mug and talking in controlled but urgent tones to that idiot Rupert Giles sent to collect Dana, the mentally disturbed slayer.

"You're sure he still has his soul?" Buffy is saying.

"You really think I could come face to face with the Scourge of Europe and live to tell the tale?" Andrew asks with pride.

"Forget I asked," Buffy says. "This just isn't like him."

Her head turns toward the window and Angel can see a puzzled look cross her face. He digs his fingernails into his palms. But Buffy shrugs it off quickly, turning back to Andrew.

"I'm sorry, Padmé, but we're dealing with Vader now. Nobody thinks we can trust him."

"I know what they think. But he must have a good reason for working there."

"If he does, he wasn't exactly Share Bear about it."

"He'll tell me."

"Don't be so sure. I mean, did he even bother to let you know that Spike is still alive?"

Andrew gasps in shock at his own reckless revelation. Buffy's mug slips from her hands and shatters on the floor.

†††

Angel turns from the window. He doesn't want to see the part where Buffy rushes off for a heartwarming reunion with the thorn in his side. The one who is really out helping the helpless, while he sits in his shiny glass tower, pushing paper for his mortal enemies.

"Where are you going?" Whistler asks. "You can't tell me her…heroism…doesn't do it for you anymore?"

"I don't want to spy on Buffy. I'm going home."

"As a point of fact, the spying was not the actual purpose of this outing. I thought you'd want to talk to her."

"And say what? That I'm not the CEO of a diabolical law firm bent on world domination?"

"I thought you were only in charge of the LA branch."

"Are you seriously questioning my evil credentials?"

"Hey, I have a sporting interest here. I was trying to get you to bat for the good guys."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"C'mon, man," Whistler says, stopping in his tracks. "The lady is right. There's gotta be a reason."

"Maybe." Angel turns back to look at him. "But I can't tell her. It's too…It's complicated."

"Fine. Don't tell her. Tell me. We can figure it out. It's not too late to get back on track."

Angel shakes his head and turns away.

"Face it, Whistler," he says. "You bet on the wrong vampire. I'm not a hero…I never was."


	2. Act I

She doesn't belong here. Buffy Summers feels that acutely as the elevator opens and she steps out into Wolfram & Hart's vast lobby. She's never worked in an office, and she's certainly never been in an office building where demons stroll the halls in suits.

Charming the guards downstairs was easy enough. She really is an old friend coming to surprise the CEO, after all, and she really does know Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, even if she hasn't actually spoken to him much since his failed stint as watcher.

All that's left now is to find Angel and get him to tell her what he's doing working for Bad Guys R Us. "Hello," she says as she approaches the desk outside the CEO's office. The blonde woman sitting there begins to turn in her swivel chair. "I don't have an appoint—Harmony?!"

Her perfectly coiffed former classmate's expression curdles into disgust. "What are **you** doing here? He doesn't want to see you!"

"What? Are you his secretary? Can you even type? Don't answer that," Buffy says. "Look, if he doesn't want to see me, he's going to have to tell me himself. Can you just let him know that I'm here?"

"Who? Angel?" Harmony brightens. "Oh, sure. I thought you were looking for Spike."

Buffy's tone loses some of its annoyance. "So he really is alive."

"And kicking. And he's not interested, so you can just—"

A tall man dressed in an impeccable suit interrupts. "Harmony, you need to alert Angel right away. Sensors are detecting a slayer in the building." He catches Buffy's eye and his intensity cracks into a grin. "Well, helllllo. And you are?"

"The slayer you're looking for, I presume."

"How lucky for me. Charles Gunn," he says, extending his hand. "How can I help you this gorgeous morning?"

"Steady on, Gunn. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," says a voice that Buffy recognizes, even if it has been years. "Hello, Buffy," Wesley greets her. His smile is the same, but his face seems like that of a different person. A stubblier person.

"I must say, when I heard there was a slayer on the premises, I wasn't expecting you," Wesley continues. "A lovely surprise."

"You're Buffy? **The** Buffy?"

"That would be me," Buffy says. She expected her visit to raise eyebrows, but maybe not quite as high as Gunn's have traveled. She smiles. "Hello, Wesley. It's been a long time."

"Too long. Have you seen Angel?"

"Not yet. Harmony here was being perfectly unhelpful on that score."

"Ugh, sorry, Grouchy the Vampire Slayer," Harmony mutters. "I'll buzz him now."

Buffy turns back to Wesley and gestures to their surroundings. "This is so surreal. I feel like I'm on the set of 'Angel McBeal.' There aren't any big, creepy babies running around, are there?"

Before the words have finished leaving her mouth, a pale, horned demon in nothing but a pair of black briefs is led past her in chains. "I found the scamp hiding in one of the copiers, you know?" the man leading the demon says loudly to a coworker. "Living on nothing but toner fluid."

Wesley smiles awkwardly. "These things happen," he says to Buffy. "Difficult to find good…demon slaves…these days."

To his relief, Fred appears, munching on an apple. "Good morning, y'all. Do we have a case?"

"Ah, Fred—Winifred Burkle. This is Buffy Summers."

Fred chokes a bit and splutters. "Oh. **Oh**. Buffy, as in the slayer? The one that Angel and Spike are both—"

Just then, Angel's door swings open and everything gets quiet. "Buffy," he says as he emerges.

"Angel," she answers, her jaw set determinedly.

Angel looks around the group with a glower. "Don't you have jobs to do?" When Gunn begins to answer, Angel cuts him off with a glance. "Buffy, why don't you join me in my office?"

†††

Wesley, Fred and Gunn wait for Buffy's blonde head to disappear through the double doors, then huddle together conspiratorially.

"So that's her, huh? Buffy the Vampire Slayer," Fred says. "I guess I thought she'd be taller. Or bigger muscles and all that."

"Remember, she's Buffy, **a** vampire slayer, now," Wesley says. "She and Willow changed the world."

"Yeah, and added slayers to our list of problems," Gunn says. "Which I don't have to remind you was already too long. You know there have to be more Danas out there."

"Even so, it was a formerly rogue slayer who came to all of our aid last year," Wesley reminds him. "Angel was able to get through to Faith. Help her become a force for good."

"Then how come Buffy the world-changin' slayer didn't trust him with Dana?"

Before Wesley or Fred can find an answer, a green-skinned demon in a loud suit joins the circle outside Angel's office.

"Morning, sunbeams. Wait till you hear what I just learned about Colin Farrell," Lorne says. Seeing their faces, he pauses. "What did I miss?"

†††

"So…I've missed a lot," Buffy says as the door to Angel's office closes behind her. "Your team seems…nice."

He looks at her blankly. "What do you want, Buffy?"

"Aren't you at least going to say you're happy to see me?" His expression doesn't change. "I see." She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks away.

"Look, if you're here to see Spike, he's not in the building. I can get you his address."

"Thank you," Buffy says, swallowing. "I'd like that. I—I'd like to see him, if he’ll see me...I can't believe he's alive. But, Angel, that's not the only reason I came here."

She looks around his office, taking in the opulence. "Why didn't you tell me? About Spike? About all of this?"

"It wasn't my place to tell you about Spike. And the rest really isn't your business."

"But this isn't you, Angel! It doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. Nice cars, private jet, endless resources. Who wouldn't be seduced by the dark side?"

"The Angel I knew liked nice things, sure. Rare books. Antiques. Not soulless corporate glitz. Not making deals with the devil."

A knock sounds at the door. Angel opens it, and there stands the devil himself. Holding a briefcase.

"Everything's in place," the red-skinned demon says. "They'll draw up the paperwork."

Angel nods. "Good. Great."

"Racquetball Thursday?" the demon asks as he leaves.

"OK, then," Angel calls after him. He turns to Buffy, eyebrows raised. "You were saying?"

Buffy glares at him, but then her eyes soften. "Angel, that amulet. The one Spike wore in the Hellmouth. We all might have died without it. You said the source was unreliable. Was this…? You didn't do this for me, did you?"

"Of course he didn't." A young woman in an elegantly tailored dress steps into the office from the private elevator. "You must be Buffy. How sweet of you to come and thank us finally. You know, Angel almost turned down that chance to save your life. I believe he said you could handle yourself."

"He's not wrong," Buffy says menacingly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Eve," Angel says. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just checking upstairs to see if you were home. I have some business to discuss, but I don't want to embarrass you in front of your very special guest."

"You don't have to worry about embarrassing me," Angel growls.

"That's true. You're quite the exhibitionist, I'd say," Eve purrs, letting her eyes stray toward Buffy. "At least, we put on a memorable show at the Halloween party."

"Halloween, huh," Buffy says, too casually. "Would you say it was a trick or a treat?"

"Trick! Definitely a trick!" Angel answers. "I mean, um, not in that way, but it was a mystical thing. Lorne—he's a demon, he works here—he told us to. And it was just the once."

"As if once would ever be enough for you," Eve says with a wink.

"Drop it, Eve. You shouldn't even be here. I thought I told security not to let you in this building."

"Sweetie, I'm liaison to the Senior Partners. I'm contractually obligated to convey their concerns. I didn't want to have to mention this in front of your stake-happy friend, but one of our clients skipped out on his bail last night. Fled to another dimension. This firm put up $10 million and it vanished in one night. Is that any way to run a business?"

Angel opens his mouth to respond but Eve isn't finished. "Oh, you'll like this, though. He had to kill five nuns to open the pandimensional doorway. Slaughtering holy women was kinda your thing back in the day, wasn't it?"

"Get out," Angel snarls. "And don't come back." He grabs Eve by the elbow and guides her out the door. "Harmony, make sure security is keeping tabs on Eve when she's in the building."

"Sure thing, boss," Harmony chirps.

As the door closes again, Buffy looks at Angel balefully. "I think I preferred the devil," she says. "Now would you make with the explanations, please?"

†††

Outside, Eve clicks determinedly past Harmony's desk, not wanting to give security even a second to catch up to her. She pulls out her cell phone as she strides down the hallway, punching the buttons discreetly.

"We've got trouble," she says when the call connects. "There's a vampire slayer in the building. And not just any slayer. His ex."

The demon on the other end of the line smiles coolly.

"Don't worry. That's going to make this even better," Whistler says.


	3. Act II

As the elevator doors slide open to reveal Angel's spacious penthouse apartment, Buffy gasps.

"Angel! The windows!"

He walks ahead of her into a brilliant stream of sunshine. When he suggested coming up here to avoid any more interruptions, he'd forgotten the blinds weren't closed like they were in his office.

Buffy stares at him in wonder. He can't help but smirk. He never gets tired of this. He walks over to the windows and looks out at the skyline. "One of the perks of the dark side."

"Amazing," she says, a smile playing on her lips. The tension between them drains away.

"Special glass. Not that big of a deal," he lies. "I don't look that good in direct light."

She tilts her head disbelievingly at that, and her smile widens until he has no choice but to answer with a grin of his own.

Eventually, she sighs, breaking the moment. Before she can start with the questions again, Angel says quietly, "I had a son."

Her eyebrows lift but she just looks at him expectantly.

"And believe it or not, you used to know this," he adds.

Her expression dissolves into confusion as she sinks onto the couch. "You'd better just tell me everything."

†††

In a dark basement apartment not far away, Spike is evading some falling debris and advancing on his adversary when he senses a presence at his door. "Bloody hell," he mutters, pausing the video game. "Would it kill you to knock, Vision Boy?"

"Am I interrupting something? I see you're busy with your hands there."

The man who calls himself Doyle steps into the apartment, amusement on his face. He's wearing an open-collared shirt, and Spike can see hints of an elaborate series of tattoos.

"Rehab," Spike grunts, putting down the controller and wiggling his fingers. "In case you didn't hear, that deranged slayer you sent me after cut off both my hands."

"That seems to be pretty common in this line of duty," Doyle says. "I'm sure Wolfram & Hart had no trouble reattaching them for you. Mine wasn't quite so easy to recover."

"I guess I should feel bloody lucky, then," Spike says bitterly.

"Actually, I thought you would be feeling pretty good today. Given your favorite slayer is in town."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Spike asks, his tone sharp but his eyes full of hope.

"Everybody's talking about it. The uberslayer, the original, the one-of-a-kind Buffy. She was seen going into the Wolfram & Hart building this morning. You haven't seen her?" His face fills with mock concern. "I guess maybe your good friend Angel forgot to call you. Who knows what he's told her."

†††

"Oh," Buffy says, still sitting on the couch in Angel's apartment. "Oh, boy."

"It was the only way to save Connor. I thought then that maybe I could save Cordelia, too," Angel continues. "It was the only option that I had."

"So you sacrificed yourself," Buffy says quietly. "You threw yourself into the belly of the beast."

"But it was wrong, Buffy," Angel says wretchedly. "Wasn't it?"

"Saving them?"

"Taking the deal. Erasing those memories."

"Would you do it again?"

"Yes."

She looks down at her hands for a moment before looking back up at him. "I'm not the best person to be talking to when it comes to memories. Mine were already soup. A little bit of this, a little bit of that." She sighs. "When the monks made Dawn my sister, they changed everything, Angel. My head was messed up long before I forgot your…him."

"So you're saying you don't mind?" Angel asks incredulously.

"I'm saying that what the monks did was wrong. Messing with people's memories **is** wrong. But...would I change it tomorrow, if I could? Not a chance." She stands and walks toward him. "Dawn is everything to me. I'm sure your…son is everything to his new family."

"You're not...I thought you'd be..."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll get there. Nothing I've heard in the last 12 hours makes any sense. But for my life...that kind of makes sense?" She shakes her head. "What I can tell you is this. The choice has been made. You can't let it eat you up inside. You can't let it destroy the good you can still do."

"I know," he says, his voice thick. "I mean, I'm trying."

"Not hard enough."

He smiles a bit at the truth in that, then grows somber. "Nobody else knows about this. Well, Eve – but no one who matters. I wasn't even going to tell you."

"Yeah, I picked up on the just-go-away vibes downstairs. What changed your mind?"

"I don't know." He glances over at the windows, where the light is still pouring in. "Seeing you in the sun...It just…It reminded me of where it all started for me."

"Lotta hard road since then," she says quietly.

"But you haven't given up. How do you do it, Buffy?"

The question hangs in the air. "We don't fight to win," she says finally. "You told me that once – at least I think you did. It's in the memory soup, anyway. You said we fight because there are things worth fighting for. That's what you can't forget."

†††

"Forget I said anything. I didn't mean to stir up trouble," the man calling himself Doyle says before leaving Spike's apartment. The vampire inside is rapidly moving from shell-shocked to mad-as-hell-and-not-going-to-take-it-anymore.

"Doyle" walks away with a certain spring in his step. He suppresses a smile as he answers the trill of his cell phone. "Message delivered," he tells his fellow conspirator. "Our little champion is headed right toward you. And so am I."

"You're sure this is a good idea?" Eve sounds nervous.

"I know this isn't what we planned, but Whistler is right. Having the slayer there will make beating Angel that much more delicious."

"Is that all you care about? Beating Angel?"

"The Senior Partners gave him everything. What I worked for, what I deserved. But there are greater forces at work here. Once I take down Angel, there will be nothing standing in my way."

"So this is all about you, then?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. This is about us. You just have to trust me."

†††

Fred didn't trust Angel. Or Harmony, for that matter. Neither one of those vampires would remember that Buffy Summers needed actual food come lunchtime. So she hatched a plan with Wesley to order takeout and invite the slayer to partake in his office. If that also gave Buffy a breather from whatever reckoning she was having with Angel – and gave them a chance to ask Buffy a few harmless little questions – that was just a happy coincidence.

"So, Faith is in Cleveland?" Wesley is saying as he spears a bit of well-seasoned chicken on his fork.

"Yeah. Things have gone a little kablooey there since Sunnydale went sunny-side down," Buffy answers. "She has a team of slayers with her. It's been an adjustment – Faith's not exactly the mother-hen type – but it seems to be working out."

"Though not everything has gone so well," Wesley ventures gently.

"I'm well-aware that the slayer spell had some unfortunate side effects," Buffy says. "But I'm taking responsibility. I was tied up when you called Giles about Dana, but Andrew knows how important it is to me that we find and help all the slayers that we can."

"Our resources here are pretty darn comprehensive," Fred says with an edge to her voice. "We help people, too."

"I get that you're trying to change things here. But Dana's a slayer. She's at home with us."

"As long as she doesn't go cuttin' off any more hands," Fred says miffily.

"What?"

"Dana mistook Spike for the man who abused her as a child," Wesley says. "She used a saw to remove his hands, in an effort to prevent him from hurting her again."

"We got 'em reattached, but he took it kinda hard," Fred adds. "Which is understandable, given that he was only recorporealized a few weeks ago."

"Recor-what-ized?" Buffy sighs. "Andrew didn't know much of the story, and things are awkward enough with Angel as it is. So I need you to tell me. How is it possible that Spike is still alive?"

†††

Angel stands alone in his office, clutching a video tape with a handwritten label in a familiar loopy script. After Buffy left his apartment at Fred's invitation – a welcome break for both of them after his intense revelations, plus all those references to soup had to mean Buffy was getting hungry – he found himself rifling through a cabinet until he found it.

But he hasn't been able to bring himself to watch it yet. He tries to distract himself with some unfinished paperwork, but eventually he can put it off no longer.

He pushes the tape into the machine near his conference table and watches as the face of a ghost fills the screen above.

"If you need help, then look no further. Angel Investigations is the best. Our rats are low—"

"Rates," interrupts the much-loved voice of yet another ghost.

"It says rats," Doyle protests as the video continues to play. "Our rates are low, but our standards are high. When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone that you can count on, and that's what you'll find here, someone who will go all the way, who'll protect you no matter what. So don't lose hope."

Angel swallows back the lump in his throat. These are the things worth fighting for. Doyle and Cordelia. His son. His friends. For them, he has to find a way to make this terrible bargain matter.

Lost in reverie, Angel is caught completely off guard as a compact, well-muscled ball of fury pounces, knocking him to the floor.

"Spike?!" he roars. "What—?"

"Is she already gone?" Spike yells, swinging his fist toward Angel's face. "You manky tosser! You bloody sod! Keeping her from me, were you?"

Before Spike can get more than a couple good punches in, he's yanked off of Angel and tossed against a wall.

He struggles to his feet, just in time for his attacker to shove her tiny hands into his chest and push until his back slams into the wall again.

Now he's face to face with a very cranky slayer.

"What are you doing?" Buffy says. "And why the hell didn't you tell me you were alive?!"


	4. Act III

"Well?!" Buffy exclaims as Spike stares at her in shock. "Start talking!"

"I—I don't know," he splutters. "I'm sor—"

"Don't even!" she interrupts, her face twisting with emotion. She releases the pressure on his chest and throws her arms around his neck. "I can't believe it's really you."

Spike returns the embrace, letting his eyes slide closed. "Good to see you, Slayer."

After a long moment, Angel clears his throat. Buffy pulls away.

"We'll talk about this later," she says to Spike, her voice thick. "How did you find out I was here?"

Spike looks over at Angel warily. "There's this fella, gets visions. Goes by the name of Doyle. He told me."

"Doyle? But he's—he's gone," Angel says. He hits a button and brings Doyle's face back up on the screen. "Is this him?"

Spike purses his lips. "Hmm, bloke does look familiar. Not the same, though. This one's got lighter hair. A whole mess of tattoos. Oh, and he lost a hand, too."

"His hand?" Angel's face changes, his mood shifting from dark to black. "These visions he gets, where do they come from?"

"You know, the Powers that Are or Be or what have you. Been sending me on missions."

"So that's how you knew to save me from the parasite," Angel says quietly.

"Maybe...What of it?"

Angel walks over to his desk and hits a button. "Harmony, where's Eve? I need to find her right away."

†††

At that very moment, many floors below, the black sheep of Wolfram & Hart is returning to the fold. The man calling himself Doyle – better known in this building as Lindsey McDonald – glides past the security barriers intended to guard the law firm's many secrets.

His precautions aren't enough to make him invisible to the human eye, though. When a security guard spots him, he's forced to cut the man down. Not that he minds. Lindsey has always been ruthless when it comes to getting what he wants.

And what he wants now is to eliminate Angel.

He pulls out his phone and waits for Eve to pick up. "I'm in."

"The distraction seems to be working," she responds excitedly. "Punches were definitely thrown."

"Good. Get out of the building as quickly as you can."

"OK. I'm going."

Upstairs, Eve ends the call and looks up from her phone to see Angel looming over her.

"Not so fast," he says. "A word in my office. Now."

†††

Angel drags Eve back to his office, where Spike has gathered the rest of the troops. Wesley, Fred, Gunn and Lorne glare at Eve disapprovingly as Angel pushes her down into a chair. The team doesn't know exactly what's going on, but they are certainly willing to deny Eve the benefit of the doubt.

"You have no right to treat me like this! When the Senior Partners hear, they're going to—"

"Don't bore us, honey," Lorne says. "If you don't want to talk, you can always just sing."

"I don't even know what you want," Eve hedges, looking at Angel.

"Spike got an interesting message today from a guy who calls himself Doyle," Angel says. "Told him Buffy was in the building. Funny thing is, it's the same guy who told him about that parasite that was poisoning me. The parasite that you put on me. Care to explain?"

"You're still going on about that? It's time to move on, Angel."

"So you're not working with this guy? The one who has the nerve to use the name Doyle?"

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell," Eve says breezily. "And now I need to go. I have an urgent appointment."

She starts to stand up, but Buffy's hand shoots out and catches her arm, pulling her back down into the chair. "Unless you're going in for a personality transplant, I think it can wait."

"Why are you so anxious to get out of the building, Eve?" Angel asks. "Something's going down right now, isn't it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then we're going to have to remind you. Spike, make her talk."

"Hey," Spike says, glancing nervously at Buffy. "Why do I have to be the one to do the dirty work? I'm a good guy now, remember? And I'm not one of your lackeys that you can just order about. You do it."

"I'm not going to hit a girl," Angel hisses.

"But you expect me to? You can sod right—"

"Oh, for the love of…" Buffy begins, rolling her eyes. She reaches for Eve, but Harmony appears out of nowhere, knocking Buffy aside and grabbing Eve by the shoulders.

"I can take care of it, boss!" Harmony says brightly to Angel. "I have zero problems hitting girls!"

To underline her point, she smacks Eve across the face. "You've been very naughty! Now 'fess up!"

Spike's eyebrows lift in appreciation before he realizes Buffy is looking at him. He quickly schools his features.

"OK, OK," Eve says. "He's in one of the sublevels of the building right now. He's going to—"

Harmony hits Eve again, cutting her off.

"Harmony, stop! She was talking," Angel complains.

"Oh, well, that's no fun," Harmony says. "Couldn't you put up a little more of a fight?"

Eve huffs, but continues. "He's going to initiate a staffing shakeup."

"Uh-oh," Gunn says.

"What is it?" Fred asks. "What's a staffing shakeup?"

"It's this really arcane provision in the Wolfram & Hart bylaws. It allows the CEO of a branch to get rid of their entire team and bring in a fresh one."

"So we're all gettin' fired?"

"Not fired. Transferred. All the department heads and anyone else here in the building will be immediately relocated to another Wolfram & Hart office. And I'm not talking Europe or Asia. I mean we'll all be sent to hell – to any one of the hundreds of demon dimensions that Wolfram & Hart controls."

"How much time do we have?" Angel asks.

"The ritual is complicated, but everything he needs is on Level B2. If he headed straight there, he must already have your access codes," Gunn says.

"I have codes? I didn't even know about this."

"No, but I'm sure she did." Gunn glares at Eve. "This is definitely an inside job. But what I don't understand is why she'd do it."

"She's working with Lindsey," Angel says tersely.

"Lindsey?" Wes echoes. "He's back?"

"Wait, who's Lindsey?" Fred asks.

"He's bad news, crumpet."

"Lindsey McDonald is a lawyer who used to be employed here," Wesley clarifies. "Are you confident it's him, Angel?"

"Spike said he lost a hand. Who else could it be?"

"I see. But if he actually is in one of the subterranean levels of this building, he should have set off a great number of alarms by now."

"Wesley's right," Angel says, aiming another scowl at Eve.

"Oooh, can I hit her again?" Harmony clasps her hands excitedly.

Eve rolls her eyes. "He's wearing protection runes. It's a concealment spell. 'Clouds before the all-seeing eye.' That includes high-priced electronic surveillance."

"Is that what those bloody tattoos of his are?" Spike asks. "Should've guessed they weren't for fashion."

"Lorne, go to security and start evacuating the building," Angel says. "We need to get everyone out." The green-skinned demon nods and heads for the door. "The rest of you should all get out of here, too."

"Won't matter for us," Gunn says. "The spell targets the senior leadership. It'll find us wherever we are. The others are just a bonus."

Angel looks grim. "Harmony, go. Take Eve with you, but don't let her out of your sight."

"Whatever you say, boss," Harmony answers, yanking Eve out of her chair by the hair.

"Angel, if those protection runes are what I think they are, you may find Lindsey in a much stronger condition than when last we met," Wesley says. "I may be able to figure out a way to break them."

"Betcha could use some help," Fred volunteers. They scurry away to hit the books before Angel can argue.

"Gunn—" Angel looks for him but he's already gone. Only two other people are left in the office. "Spike, you and Buffy should—"

"Come with you," Buffy interrupts.

"No. This isn't your problem. You shouldn't risk being caught up in it."

"You heard Eve earlier," Buffy says, selecting a wicked-looking weapon from the wall and smiling grimly. "I owe Wolfram & Hart a thank you."

†††

Armed to the teeth and extremely dangerous, the three of them stride out of Angel's office and into the lobby, where they nearly collide with a demon in a black fedora.

"Everyone seems in a big hurry to get out of here. Can’t say as I blame them, given what I just saw," Whistler says, tapping his temple.

"Oh, great. You again," Buffy says. "Let me guess. You had a vision of a guy with tattoos trying to send everyone in the building to hell?"

"Thanks for stopping by, Whistler," Angel says. "But we're in a bit of a rush."

He moves toward the elevators, flanked by Buffy on his right and Spike on his left.

"So you got the part about how to stop him, too, right?" Whistler calls after them.

Angel whirls around.

"I saw it in my vision. Angel, the only way to stop it is for you to go to hell. Again."


	5. Act IV

**** The elevator dings and opens behind them, but nobody moves.

"You're not just going to listen to this wanker, are you?" Spike bursts out. "What does he know?"

"Spike, this is Whistler," Angel explains. "He actually gets visions. Unlike the tiny Texan who's been giving you marching orders."

"Look," Whistler says. "I don't mean to rain on your parade and all. Just seemed like something you should know."

"There's got to be another way," Buffy says, moving into the elevator and holding the door open for the rest of them. "And standing here isn't going to help us find it."

†††

In his office above, Charles Gunn taps furiously at his computer while keeping a constant eye on the clock. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

Just down the hall, Wesley murmurs into a source book, "All references to protection runes derived from the Enochian alphabet."

As the words spring into the pages, he hands the source book to Fred. "You start here," he says. "I'll begin with the  _ Heptarchia Mystica _ ."

†††

As Angel leaves the elevator, he sees a stream of slimy demons heading straight toward them.

Buffy brandishes her weapon. "Just wouldn't be a Sunnydale reunion without a whole lot of demon goo."

"Keep going," Spike says to Angel. "We'll tidy up this lot." He and Buffy swing into action.

Angel dodges demons left and right, heading back toward their source. He hears Whistler cry out when a demon claws at him, shredding part of his jacket. Buffy comes to the rescue, landing a blow to the demon's head, and Angel pulls Whistler with him through a doorway.

"About time," Lindsey says as they enter the ritual chamber. He sits shirtless in the center of a circle of sand on a platform, his bare chest covered in the runic tattoos that are protecting him. Below, a pool of fire gleams – the portal.

"I was starting to think this was going to be too easy," Lindsey says. "But look, you've brought out the big guns." He looks at Whistler and laughs.

"Stop this, Lindsey. Your problem is with me, not the rest of them," Angel says.

"Too late. The shakeup has already been initiated. You saw some of the new members of the team on your way in." Lindsey grins. "In just a few more minutes, your friends will be headed to worlds where those guys are your average cubicle-dwellers."

"There's a way to stop this," Whistler says.

"That's right. There is," Lindsey responds. "The CEO always has the option to take the transfer himself. Let the Senior Partners decide his fate."

"He used your access codes, Angel," Whistler explains. "And those funny marks on his chest mean that the bosses can't see that it's him. It's just like in my vision. You can stop this by going through the portal."

"That's what you wanted," Angel says to Lindsey. "This is your way of getting rid of me."

"And everyone says you're slow to catch on," Lindsey says. "It's really not fair."

†††

This isn't a fair fight, Spike knows. These demons have got nothing on the Slayer. It's a heady rush to battle alongside her again.

He watches as Buffy cuts through a demon's neck with one clean motion, a satisfied look on her face. The slimy buggers' numbers are dwindling and Spike knows he can handle the rest alone.

"I'll send these boys back to hell!" he yells. "Go stop the great oaf before he does something stupid!"

†††

"Of course I'll go through the portal," Angel says. "The Senior Partners want me running this place. I'll be back home in time to make you dinner." He smiles cockily at Lindsey.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Lindsey smirks back. "There's a new vampire with a soul in town. Looks like he's the real answer to their prophecies. Even your ex is a big fan, I hear."

Angel ignores the bait. "I'll take my chances," he says, walking toward the portal. "Whistler, tell my friends I—"

A pair of hands grab his jacket and yank him away from the portal's edge.

"What is wrong with you?!" Buffy yells. "I told you we'd find another way."

"Buffy, please, we don't have much time."

"All the more reason you need to listen to this guy." She spins him around to face Gunn, who has a sheet of paper in his hand and a ridiculous grin on his face.

"I took the liberty of drawing this up," Gunn says. "But I need your signature." He hands Angel his blood-ink pen.

"What? What is it?"

"This document hereby transfers the title of chief executive officer of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram & Hart to one Lindsey McDonald, effective an hour ago and lasting until a few minutes after we shove his ass into that fiery portal," Gunn says. "There's a clause in your contract that allows you to designate a temporary CEO in case of emergency."

Angel smiles, signing his name. "Head of Wolfram & Hart. Just exactly what you always wanted, Lindsey."

He turns back toward the platform where Lindsey is sitting and discovers Whistler has climbed up as well. "Exite!" Whistler commands, and the tattoos covering Lindsey's chest begin to dissolve into the air.

"What are you doing, man? You have to help me," Lindsey says in confusion and horror, but it's too late. Whistler pushes him, hard, and Lindsey falls hollering into the portal below. It immediately begins to recede, shrinking into a tiny dot before disappearing completely.

"Thank God," Whistler says with glee. "If I had to hear the story about his evil hand one more time, I was gonna…" He mimes slitting his throat, and the shreds of his jacket fall away from his arm.

They can all see now that his skin bears the same runic symbols that had marked Lindsey's chest.

†††

Angel reacts more quickly than the others, rushing for the platform. That turns out to be a mistake. Now that the portal is closed, the security measures the Senior Partners put in place around the access point zap back into operation. A slightly shimmery energy barrier cuts Angel and Whistler off from the rest of the group.

Angel hears them shouting, but he can't worry about it now. He jumps to the platform in a smooth motion, lunging for Whistler, but finds himself easily pinned instead.

"These protection runes are so very handy," Whistler says. "They keep you safe from prying eyes, and they give you a big ol' power boost to boot."

"I don't understand," Angel says. "What are you trying to do?"

"Well, that's pretty simple," Whistler answers. "I'm trying to kill you."

He tosses Angel from the platform and then leaps himself. Angel lands on his back and sees Whistler heading right toward his face.

†††

Upstairs, Wesley is crushing a series of mystical herbs into a golden bowl. "Do we have everything?" he asks Fred.

"Woodbury lichen, danbeetle skeleton…I think that's it."

"Good. We must get this downstairs immediately."

†††

Angel rolls at the last second. Whistler lands softly as a cat, then grabs Angel and throws him against the wall.

"OK, I get that you'd like to kill me," Angel says. "But why?"

"Because you took this ridiculous deal! You ruined everything, you and your insufferable ex-girlfriend."

"Buffy?" Angel says softly. He manages to get back on his feet and looks over at the group behind the energy barrier. He can't make out what they are saying over the rushing in his head.

"She changed the world, numbnuts! She turned hundreds of girls into superheroes," Whistler says, his fists flying. Angel works to block the blows, but Whistler is stronger. "And you! You decided to neuter one of the vilest corporations in the world! Neither of you thought about the consequences that might have for a balancing demon, did you?"

Whistler lands a solid punch and Angel feels his lip split. He manages to push the smaller demon away. Whistler looks at him in disgust.

"You still don't get it, do you? I got reassigned, you pea brain! I work for the Senior Partners now, just like you. My first job was to mess around with your pal Lindsey. They were very amused by his enthusiasm. He enlisted Eve's help and cooked up that plan with Spike all on his own. A chain of fools, to quote Aretha. I just gave him some mystical firepower."

Angel shakes his head. "Wait. If you're working for the Senior Partners, why are you after me?"

"They're gonna kill me!" Whistler all but screams, charging for Angel and pinning him to the ground. "Once these tattoos are gone, I'm toast. They don't trust me."

"I can't imagine why not," Angel says.

"Yeah, well, imagine this. I'm taking you with me. And as a reward for messing with the balance of the universe, your old flame's gonna get to watch."

†††

"Fabula mundi, sanguis incesti, vincula solve, invisa revela."

Wesley begins chanting the spell as soon as he and Fred reach the basement room. She turns to help Gunn, who is working with Buffy to try to short-circuit the energy barrier.

As the magic begins to course through him, Wesley gasps. "I think I can feel it working."

Fred looks over at him, her face aglow with admiration.

†††

Still pinned to the floor, Angel watches as Whistler brandishes a stake above his chest.

"Y'know, I thought this would be harder, but it's no real loss. You were a rat-eating waste of space before and you're even worse now. A mindless corporate shill. Nobody worth counting."

†††

Fred yanks on a wire and the energy barrier fritzes out, just as Wesley completes the spell.

"Angel," Wes shouts, "I've weakened him, but you must draw his blood to complete the ritual!"

†††

With a sudden burst of energy, Angel pushes himself up from the floor, throwing Whistler off of him. He grabs the demon by what remains of his shredded jacket.

"You're wrong, Whistler," he says. "When you found me in that alley, I was all alone. A nobody. But I'm not anymore. I became someone. To them, I  **am** someone." His features shift to reveal his vampire visage. "And all you’ve become is a rat."

With that, he sinks his fangs into Whistler's throat.

†††

As the first rush of the demon's acrid blood rushes over his tongue, a white light blossoms in Angel's head. He can see it. The fiery apocalypse that awaits if the Senior Partners get their way. And where he needs to start looking if he's going to stop it.

Whistler has played them all – Lindsey, the Senior Partners, Angel himself – to deliver a final message, the last one he received before his ties to the Powers That Be were severed forever.

But Angel can't breathe a word of it to anyone. Not yet.

The light fades, and the world goes dark.

†††

When Angel opens his eyes, he is on the couch in his office upstairs. Wesley, Gunn, Fred, Lorne, Spike and Buffy hover above him in a semicircle.

"Is everyone OK?" he asks. "Where's Whistler?"

"Went poof," Buffy answers.

"Your bite broke the concealment spell. He appeared to be transported to another dimension," Wesley clarifies. "Most likely claimed by the Senior Partners."

"Will they kill him?" Angel asks softly, sitting up.

"You're worried about the guy who just tried to take you out?" Gunn says. "Did he mush your brain a little?"

"I know I could use a little brain mushing," Lorne says. "I was worried I was gonna end up somewhere even worse than Pylea today. How about a round of drinks on me?"

The suggestion meets with approval all around, and the group heads for the door.

"Are you feelin' up to coming along, Angel?" Fred asks.

"I'm fine. But I'll catch up to you later," Angel says, glancing over at Buffy.

Spike looks back at the two of them, but he follows behind the merry laughter of the group without saying anything.

"I'll be back, Angel," Buffy says. "I just need a minute."

†††

"Spike!" Buffy calls when she enters the lobby. "Wait."

He turns back, relief palpable on his face. Buffy smiles. "Are you OK?"

"Feeling bloody stupid. I believed him. Lindsey. Thought those visions were for me. That I had a destiny."

"Believe me, it's better not to have one," Buffy says. Then she adds, more softly, "You've always made your own way."

She puts her hand on his arm. "I've got to go soon. But I didn't want to leave without telling you. You should know that I…I meant it."

They are the words he's been waiting to hear, but the look on her face is not precisely the one he's imagined.

"But that was then and this is now?" he guesses.

"It's not that easy, Spike," she says. "I mourned for you. Then I got angry. At you, at myself. I'm better now, but…I don't think I'm the person you knew in Sunnydale anymore."

"Makes two of us."

"I'm sure it does." She smiles wryly. "The whole soul thing  **is** his specialty."

"So that's it, then? It's him."

"He needs help sometimes, too, you know. We all do. But…I'm still figuring a lot of things out."

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike complains tenderly. "Here comes the 'I choose me' speech." 

Buffy frowns but her eyes are smiling. "I'm no Donna Martin, but something like that, yeah."

"Kelly Taylor, y'mean? Jennie Garth, not Tori Spelling. I would've thought that you above all people could keep your '90s bottle blondes straight."

"Bottle…? Look who's talking!" she says, a grin lighting up her face.

She takes both of his hands in hers and just gazes at him for a long moment. Then she pulls him close and hugs him one last time.

"If you ever come back from the dead without telling me again, I'll kill you. I mean it."

†††

Outside on the pavement, Fred threads her arm through Wesley's companionably as they trail behind Lorne and Gunn's happy chatter. He looks over at her with a slightly startled expression but doesn't pull away. They walk arm in arm the rest of the way to Cat and Fiddle.

It's a start.

†††

Angel looks up from his desk as Buffy returns, goodbye written all over her face.

"Sure you can't stay a little longer?" he asks, standing up.

"I need to get back to Rome. I've got some…things to take care of. And Dawn needs me, of course."

Angel can sense that there's something she isn't saying. A hint of agitation in her tone. He makes a mental note to keep closer tabs on her. But that can wait. For now, he just wants to bask.

"It's meant a lot to me, Buffy, you being here. I've been in the dark for so long…" His eyes lock onto hers. "Whistler said you changed the balance, tilted it toward the side of good. You really did make a difference. I think maybe I can, too."

"Are you sure you have to do it here? For one thing, this place doesn't seem to have the best occupational safety record."

His lips quirk. "I think I know where I'm headed now."

"You know, of all the crazy things I've heard today, there's one I still don't understand," Buffy says. "I get why you agreed to work here, but what got you the job offer in the first place?"

"Oh." Angel falters. "It's all very vague," he says finally. "Something to do with a prophecy."

"Ah. My least favorite word." Buffy grimaces. "You're sure you're going to be OK?"

"I'm sure. You can go…keep baking."

"I can what now?"

"You know, cookie dough…Do I really have to explain this to you?"

"I have zero clue what you're talking about," she says, smiling broadly. "But duty calls. It always does for us." She's suddenly serious. "I may not be in touch for a while, Angel. It's nothing to worry about," she says, her voice rising over his as he starts to interrupt her. "I just wanted you to know."

"You can take care of yourself. I understand."

She starts to turn toward the door, but hesitates. Then his arms are full of her and he lets himself get lost in her warmth and her scent, but all too soon, she is pulling away. When she gets to the door, she stops to look back.

Her smile is shy and tender. "It was good seeing you, Angel. In the light, I mean. It suits you."

And then she's gone.


End file.
